


My Darling

by corvusdraconis, Dragon_and_the_Rose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Zork (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22371421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvusdraconis/pseuds/corvusdraconis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_and_the_Rose/pseuds/Dragon_and_the_Rose
Summary: SSHG, AU: Severus Snape is incapable of escaping the status of war hero after Harry sodding Potter exposed his memories to the Wizarding World. Forced into the underground society of the Unspeakables to avoid such insufferable spotlights and fame, he is disgusted to learn that Harry Potter needs his help to find Hermione Granger.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 41
Kudos: 295





	My Darling

**Prompts:** AmortentiaInMyVeins said she couldn't stand fics that used darling and minx. Well, then… challenge accepted.

**Warnings:** Umm... don't read if you're allergic to cute?

**Beta Love** : Possibly publishing unsupervised. _Dragon: Nope!_ Well, that didn't take long: Dragon and the Rose. XD

**Disclaimer:** JKR's sandbox. Making no money off this. Etc.

* * *

**My Darling**

_I've always said to my men friends, if you really care for me, darling, you will give me territory. Give me land, give me land._

**Eartha Kitt**

* * *

"If you _really_ want Hermione Granger to be found," the rather intimidating witch said as she scribbled on the parchment on her desk. "This is the one who can best help you."

Harry Potter stared at the grey-clad Unspeakable with a little trepidation. Whoever it was was tall, and the colour-ambiguous grey seemed to shift colours like a chameleon's hide. They wore their hood over their head and a mask that fully concealed the face. The mask was every bit as intimidating as a Death Eater's, and it made him wonder what had come first: the Unspeakables or Tom Riddle's infamous Knights of Walpurgis.

Harry fidgeted. Auror or no, the Unspeakables were seen as the boogeymen of the Wizarding World, much like Hit Wizards and Witches. There were stories, oh so many stories, but very few knew anything concrete about them other than Hit Wizards were utterly lethal individuals and Unspeakables were the ones who fixed things when normal channels bollixed it up.

"Now, tell me _why_ you think Hermione Granger needs finding and is not merely taking a sabbatical somewhere far away from the angst and drama of England, hrm?"

Harry winced. Amelia Bones was notoriously direct and to the point.

"She didn't show up for the wedding."

Amelia scowled. "And why is this a problem for the Unspeakables?"

Harry could feel the eyes boring into him from the Unspeakable in the room.

"They were getting married."

Amelia gave him an unfriendly look. "How is this a crisis outside of the apparent failure of a marriage?"

"She was _**obviously**_ being influenced! She wouldn't just swan off and miss her own bloody wedding!"

"Perhaps, she didn't really want to get married, Mr Potter," Amelia said calmly, her quill scribbling quickly across a parchment.

"Of _**course**_ she wanted to get married," Harry protested loudly, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Amelia pulled a file out from her drawer and threw it on the desk in front of Harry.

Harry eyed first her and then the file with a strange sort of open-mouthed guppy look.

"Open it, Mr Potter."

Harry opened the file with the same approach sticking one's hand in a nest of pit vipers might happen.

"This can't be right!"

"It's right here in the magical registry, Mr Potter. There is no possible way that Ms Granger could have married Ronald Bilius Weasley as Mr Weasley is already magically married via consummation and the conception of a viable magical foetus with one Belinda Leah Bloomsbury. Mr Weasley insists that Polyjuice must have been involved as he claims to not recall ever having relations with Ms Bloomsbury."

"No way, Ron would have _**told**_ me—" Harry protested, running his hands agitatedly through his already messy hair.

"I rather doubt that, Mr Potter," Amelia said grimly. "Drunken revels are hardly a thing about which most would willingly kiss and tell. Even if what Mr Weasley says is true in that he does not recall it, no marriage bond would be possible between Mr Weasley and Ms Granger. That being said, are you sure you wish the Department of Mysteries to assist you in locating Ms Granger?"

"She is _**missing!"**_ Harry yelled. "I've looked _**everywhere**_ for her! All of our leads have led to nothing but dead end after dead end!"

"Yet, there has been no official missing person report filed."

Harry flinched. "As Aurors we couldn't file the report ourselves."

"And yet, as Aurors you have repeatedly searched for her and failed."

Harry shook his head, frustrated. "Look, she's missing and she's my friend. I'm worried sick about her."

"When did you last see her?" Amelia said.

"The night before the wedding."

Amelia frowned. "And that was when, precisely?"

Harry gaped a bit like a fish. "The evening of April thirtieth. Beltane eve."

Amelia gave the Unspeakable in the room a sharp glance.

The Unspeakable immediately swept from the room without a sound, disappearing as easily if they had phased through the wall.

Amelia put her hands down on the desk, clenching her fingers tightly enough to make a faint squeaking sound. "Mr Potter, I highly recommend that you have a long chat with your best mate and family and get all of your affairs in order, for if I find out that you have abused Ministry resources to cover up some greater conspiracy, a missing friend will be the very least of your concerns."

Harry Potter, hero of the Wizarding World and star Auror, stared down at his feet and wondered how things had gotten so badly out of hand.

* * *

As the hooded figure slipped into the cottage and closed the door behind them after ensuring that there was no one about. With a crick of their neck, they cast a variety of spells before removing the mask from their face and pulling down the hood.

Dark, straight hair spilt out and down past his shoulders, framing his angular, pale face. Black eyes cast about the room as he wrinkled his nose as if smelling something foul, but he rubbed his nose with his sleeve and sighed. Dispelling the goblin-silver gauntlets that protected his hands, he took in the scene before him with discomfiture.

There was a time that seemed so long ago in which he had been invited to this place—Hermione Granger's refuge of sorts—but that time seemed to be long past and gone.

He did not suffer fools or betrayal, and she had both made him a fool and betrayed him.

" _I can't wait to see you in public. I've dreamed of it. The letters can only convey so much, and there is much I want to tell you. Show you. I'm not going to just disappear into the mist. My parents are finally able to remember everything, and I'm going to come back to Britain and pay my debt to magic for its blessings. I'll explain it all when I see you."_

Severus had woken in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries after the war—alive. He had been given a choice of fates: to live in secrecy forever or make a new life for himself. While none could tell him who had transported him there, Granger had been instrumental in clearing his name "above ground."

She had written him, and some strange impulse had seen him willingly returning her owls.

He had thought, mistakenly, that some sort of strange, unlikely connection had been forged between then in the aftermath of the war—that she would, could forgive even him, a man who couldn't quite seem to forgive himself.

She had convinced him to meet her in the world above and build a new life together—

And he, stupidly, had come—hope in his heart that maybe, for once, he could leave Lily's memory in the grave and live a real life.

" _Did you think I'd actually want to be with a greasy old git like you, of all people?"_

_Multiple flashbulbs had gone off at once, heralding his stunning return to "life."_

The Prophet had gleefully plastered his shocked expression on their front page as Hermione had spurned him in public.

He had hurriedly schooled his expression behind decades worth of Occlumency skill and disappeared just as quickly as he had arrived.

Still, despite the fact he'd rather take a bludger to the head than see Hermione Granger again, the fact that she was missing was nonetheless quite troubling. He couldn't claim to truly know her anymore, but part of him understood that it wasn't like her to not talk to someone, even if it wasn't him.

He saw the highly organised bookshelves on the far wall, the potions setup next to a complicated vented area cleverly rerouted to the chimney, and a fully-stocked inventory of reagents and miscellaneous ingredients. Everything was labelled both with coloured labels and disgustingly neat handwriting.

A large tome lay open on a writing desk, an antique silver-gryphon feather quill and India ink set was waiting as if its owner had only left for a moment. One hole in the desk had a pile of parchments that looked vaguely familiar, and then he realised with some discomfort that they were his old letters—all pristinely kept, ribbons still neatly attached to the waxen seals.

He flipped the pages backwards and felt a stone sinking deep within his stomach.

* * *

_Tonight is the night._

_I cannot wait._

_Tonight, I get to see Severus for the first time since the end of the war. Since the shack. Since magic came to my pleas for help._

_I'm nervous, of course. I'm no Lily Evans. I am not pretty or popular. No one wants to hook up with a swotty little bookworm when there are so many other options out there. I'm worried he will find me just as plain and unremarkable as everyone else believes me to be._

_But—_

_I cannot help but hope that what we've shared in letters will be true face to face now that he is no longer my teacher and I am no longer his student._

_I never want him to think he owes me anything because he doesn't._

_I can't even begin to count how many times he saved us despite his loathing for Harry—how many times he could have just stood aside for a fraction of a second and let us be mauled by a werewolf or let Harry crash to the ground._

_No, saving his life was just evening the score for a man who did everything he could with what he had while trying to stave off a Dark Lord. Harry couldn't have done the same. He couldn't even keep Tom out of his mind enough to stop charging forward and getting Sirius killed._

_No, what Magic wants of me, I freely give for its aid when I needed it so many, many times._

_But is it wrong for me to hope that what my heart wants is possible despite the odds?_

_To dream?_

_There is so much I wish to tell him. Show him._

_I hope he and Cuinn get along._

* * *

Severus felt a painful tug in the region where his heart was threatening to rise out of his chest and throttle him. All the anger. All the humiliation, the disgust—

Something had transformed the Hermione Granger that had written that journal entry into a selfish bint who tore out his heart and stomped on it.

The Hermione _he_ knew had written in this tome—a record of life that could only be measured in feet of parchment far away from the drama of the Ministry.

The witch that had captured his heart from across the distance and the written page—

Severus could feel his lungs seize as he realised that he hadn't even questioned her betrayal. He'd simply took her words as the final and only nail in the coffin and closed his heart to any and all thought on the matter.

" _Get out of my face Ms Granger. I have nothing I wish to discuss with you."_

" _But Severus—"_

" _Do you take me for a fool? An idiot?"_

" _No, but—"_

" _Well, you could have fooled me. Now, I don't know how you managed to even find me here, but I never want to see you again."_

" _Sever—"_

" _DON'T let my name even pass your lips, Ms Granger. You lost that right with what you've done. Get a good laugh, did you? Pull the wool over the greasy git's eyes?"_

" _Please, tell me what I've done that upset you. Please!" Her eyes were wide, half in tears that threatened to fall._

_Snape snarled at her, his spittle practically flying out of his mouth as he bore down on her with a vengeance. Her eyes widened even more as she cringed from him. "How dare you think you can just play with my life and come back as if nothing was meant by it. How dare you. Get out of my sight, Ms Granger. I never wish to see you again. Go back to Weasley and give him a good fuck and laugh at old Snape, but do not think I will ever forgive you for I will not."_

" _But, our letters—"_

_Pain flashed across his face just before it was replaced with fury. "They were good, Ms Granger. You fooled me. Take that to your grave."_

" _I thought you were different! I thought you understood!" The tears were plain upon her face._

" _The only thing I understand now is that you can rot in Hell of your own making and writhe, and I. Won't. Care."_

_Hermione's blood left her face, and she clutched her chest with one hand as though it truly pained her. She took in a deep, sharp breath, and magic seemed to crackle around her._

_The power of it._

_The emotion._

_It licked at his skin like the tendrils of a lash. Her eyes opened, and they glowed a bright, pure blue that filled in the whites and stole away her eyes._

_For a moment, it seemed as though magic itself hissed at him, burning him from the inside out._

_But then she straightened, her posture stiff. "Goodbye, Professor."_

_And she was gone without a sound as magic seemed to leave the room completely._

" _Good riddance," Snape snarled into the void she had left, forcing his heart behind the walls of Occlumency he had mastered all too well, shoving it in box, a chest, a closet, a wall, a boulder avalanche, and then deep within the smouldering mountain within himself._

* * *

Snape's jaw clenched as his mind and heart struggled to reconcile. He has assumed much and allowed his knee-jerk reaction of betrayal and rage to cloud and ignore his heart's pleading to investigate the sudden, drastic change in Hermione's attitude. He sank into the nearby armchair, a low moan of realisation settling in like a heavy ship anchor over his body.

Squeaky cursing caused him to leap up, startled out of his skin.

A furry animal that seemed to embody the cuddliest features of everything from kittens to koala bears (sans the odours) glared up at him, having not exactly appreciated being sat upon. Even with the disgruntled look it gave him, he was immediately stricken with how utterly _adorable_ it was.

The beast's eyes went wide upon realising he was not whoever it was expecting, and it immediately looked like it was going to bolt as quickly as possible.

"No wait, please!" Severus said, his voice rough with disuse. He hadn't truly used the spoken word since Hermione had—He scowled.

The animal shrank back from him.

He cursed, fumbling over his own lack of ability to connect to anyone, let alone strange beasts.

"Please—I mean you no harm, little one. I'm just here looking for Hermione. Have you seen her?"

The animal's whiskers twitched, eyes narrowing as its nose wiggled.

Snape sighed, wearily sitting in the other chair after making sure it wouldn't protest his doing so again. He pulled out a wrapped package from his robes and revealed a raspberry-filled Jaffa cake. He frowned, breaking it in half and setting it on the table in between the chairs. "I have no idea what you eat, and I have a feeling with my luck I'd give you something poisonous and Hermione would have one more thing to detest me for. This is a guilty pleasure we both shared."

Severus' eyebrows lifted as the creature promptly hopped up onto the table, snatched up the treat and quickly made it disappear.

He carefully transfigured a stray twig into a bowl and filled it with water using his wand.

The creature sniffed it curiously and seemed to contemplate a moment before drinking it down to nothing.

"Minx."

Severus' head snapped up.

"You speak?"

The beast gave him a narrowed gaze. "Minx."

Snape scratched his head, then sighed. "Sorry, obviously you speak, but—do you speak fluent English?"

"Minx." The beast seemed to punctuate using intonation but otherwise shared no other words.

"Is that your name?"

"Minx."

"Was that a yes?"

"Minx!"

Severus closed his eyes, letting his head sink back on the edge of the chair. "Wonderful, so you are either named Minx or _are_ a minx. How utterly helpful."

_**THUMP!** _

The clearly irritated minx landed on his chest, having leapt quite deftly onto his ribcage.

" _ **Minx!"**_ it squeaked loudly. Its curly tail seemed to cock and spring even as it swished back and forth. The entire spectacle was, again, completely adorable. Amelia would probably melt spontaneously if introduced to her, he figured.

"Well, aren't _you_ a darling," he muttered, unconsciously rubbing under its chin.

" _ **Minx!"**_

"That is not your name."

" _ **Minx! Minx!"**_

Snape rolled his eyes. "Fine. Darling. At least it's better than calling you Minx."

" _ **Minx!"**_ The beast said, thumping his chest insistently with its front paws.

Snape sighed. "It figures she'd have something like you after what I did," he mused. "I'd need therapy too if I had to deal with myself."

"Minx."

"Because I'm a bloody stupid bastard, you see."

"Minx?"

"Something untoward must have happened to her, and instead of recognising that something was _very_ wrong, I believed she'd been stringing me along, had used me. I was so terribly angry—She came to me afterwards, and she must not have had any idea of what had happened. I treated her like I thought she deserved for luring me up to the surface only to have a team of reporters there to take pictures while she laughed in my face. I dismissed her emotion as mere crocodile tears. I _refused_ to be fooled again—and now she's gone, and I have no idea how to find her let alone make it right or even figure out what really happened that day."

Snape cradled his head in his hands. "Some great Unspeakable _I_ am. I deserve thi— _ **OW!"**_

" _ **Minx!"**_ The animal had bitten him square on the nose, jumped down on the floor and scampered off into the next room.

"Bloody hell," he cursed, rubbing his bleeding nose with his hand with a pained wince.

He pointed his wand at his nose and muttered a spell to stop the bleeding. "What a glorious day," he groaned.

He trudged into the next room, feeling utterly uncomfortable with being in a witch's bedroom (or _any_ bedroom that wasn't his) as he attempted to locate the feisty little biter of noses.

After a few minutes of hearing rustling with no minx, he finally decided he was a wizard. " _Accio minx!"_

A furry bundle slammed square into his face and chomped his nose again.

" _ **Fuck!**_ " he cursed, trying to pry the animal off his poorly defended nose.

The minx fell onto the nearby bed with a thump. " _ **Minx!"**_

"What was _**that**_ for, you pugnacious creature?!" he bellowed only to find out his voice sounded more like air escaping from an inflatable ball. "Sodding wonderful," he groaned, rubbing his throat. He instinctively pulled at his collar and rubbed the scars on his throat.

He felt the odd sensation of being watched, and he saw the minx staring at him.

"It's an old wound," he explained, unsure why he even said anything to an animal. He realised he had been hungry for conversation, and without the daily letters from Hermione, he had been sadly neglecting the fine art of communication. Most of the DoM thought he was mute anyway, no thanks to Nagini. The rest just figured he was the perfect Unspeakable in an utterly intimidating silent and brooding kind of way.

Well, he admitted to himself, he _did_ have the silent, brooding, and impressive billow routine down to a science.

He rubbed his neck with a pained wince. Ever since he'd told Hermione to shove off, he hadn't slept well, and his neck was convinced that its job was solely to make his life as painful as possible. While they had been corresponding, he had slept quite well—looking forward to her letters each day. Now, no matter _how_ hard he had Occluded, his body was miserable. It should have been a clue, but he'd stubbornly dismissed it as par for the course. He was accustomed to living his life feeling used, after all.

Only—

He found himself hugging the minx to his chest. "You realise that if she returns, she's going to hex my arse into a wall and probably take my bollocks with a rusty spoon, right?"

Darling didn't seem all that impressed with the resultant mental image and gave a small huff of what could have been exasperation.

"I can't tell if you are here to make sure I stay long enough to get my arse hexed or you just happen to be here waiting for her to come back—" Snape carried the minx out to the kitchen. "Might as well make some tea, eh?"

He found the kettle on the stove—a Muggle one in all appearances until he sensed the flare of magic when he turned the knob for the gas. It was terribly mundane to all appearance, and had he not been so sensitive to magic, it would have gone unnoticed. It was clever—the kind of thing that would appease any Muggle family that came to visit and not make them feel ill at ease.

The tea service, on the other hand, made a knot that tightened inexorably in his stomach. It was the set _he_ had sent her, once joking that he would come back for it if he ever found out she was unduly abusing it.

Darling had decided that making tea was a familiar activity, and Snape suspected the creature was Hermione's familiar after all when the beast came back with a tin of tea that smelled achingly familiar.

It was his own favoured tea blend—the likes of which only tea masters or those highly skilled in potions could reverse engineer. Or—Hermione had evidently kept the last batch he had sent her.

_Gods,_ he thought. _Here I am, already fully integrated into her life, and I doubted her. I thought—_

_I'm an idiot._

"I'm such a fool," he said dully.

He shook his head as he took the water off the stove to warm the teapot, pouring out the twirled water after a few swishes. He put the eaves into the tea ball shaped like a cranky-looking hippogriff and added the water to the pot.

Darling bounced over and thumped a tea cozy shaped like the head of Cthulhu over the teapot and squeak-bounced down the counter, curly tail swishing.

Severus eyed the Elder God tea cozy with a touch of suspicion.

Surely, Hermione hadn't been dragged to her death after taunting the gaze of an Elder God that typically existed only in the mind of Lovecraft?

Darling scurried back across the counter carrying what looked like a—

His nose twitched.

A truffle?

There was the distinctive dark brown outer "crust" of the fungal tuber, and there was no doubt the minx was being very careful with it.

"Minx. Minx. Minx." Darling washed its face and looked ready to dig right into the truffle's outer flesh to get at the inner treasure.

Snape lunged, rescuing the truffle from being eaten. As he pulled it away from the hungry minx, he could practically feel his compassion going down by at least two points.

The minx was looking at him with a disappointed (and hungry) expression.

"Minx," Darling said, giving him the eyes.

Decades worth of self-control was the only thing that kept him from throwing the treasured truffle at the hungry guilt-laser minx.

"Do you realise how much these are worth?" he asked.

"Minx." The animal seemed to sulk.

"Look, I'll make you something. Well, I'll make myself something and share with you, but you can't just go eating a magic-infused black truffle like they are common kibble!"

"Minx." Darling flicked her curly tail.

He put a status spell on the truffle, wrapped it carefully in parchment, futzed with a charm on a bag in his pocket, and dropped it into a portable hole all Unspeakables had—headed straight for the goblins in Gringotts, who would take their cut off the top but get him the absolute best price for the magical truffle.

The only regret, well other than having totally stolen Darling's truffle dinner, was that he didn't get to keep one for himself.

Sighing, he rustled around for food, feeling like there was some strange compulsion to remain in the home of the one he'd spurned so cruelly, if anything to pay penance by taking care of Granger's obvious familiar. He opened the Muggle-looking fridge, admiring the magic that made it cold and yet seemed so mundane. He pulled out vegetables and some ground beef and decided spaghetti and meatballs would work—his own recipe that wasn't quite pure Italian but it had red sauce and went over pasta as well as tasting just fine, so he didn't give a flying fig what purists thought. His childhood had proven that sometimes just eating was a luxury in itself, so if it tasted good, who really gave a shite if it was off a recipe.

Within a half hour, he and the minx were sharing supper, and Darling made a strangely content mealtime companion even without cutlery. Watching the minx eat spaghetti involved her taking small bites of the meatballs then wrangling the noodles into her body like an interdimensional vacuum.

"Where are you packing all that?" he asked the hungry animal.

"Minx!" the fed minx replied, licking her chops and yet still eying his uneaten meatballs.

Snape sighed and gave Darling another serving, and this time the minx took their time, but damn if the bloody animal couldn't pack away food.

"I think you do have a pocket dimension for a stomach," Snape said, finishing his dinner with a shake of his head.

Darling licked its chops.

"Are you male or female? Calling you an it seems awfully inappropriate," Snape said.

"Minx!" Darling replied, offering no other hints.

"Well not to insult your masculinity, but I'm going to go with a female," Snape decided.

Darling cleaned her plate down to the shine and sat down, cleaning herself like a feline. "Minx!" she said, seemingly content with the designation.

Snape had to chuckle, and he cleaned the table and the dishes, putting them back in the cabinets. Darling hopped on his shoulder for a ride or to supervise, Severus wasn't sure which was more appropriate, and seemed to radiate warmth.

The minx smelled much as he would expect of Granger's familiar—smelling of parchment and ink with a touch of cherry blossoms mixed with a warm musk. It was a pleasant scent that reminded him of something he couldn't quite place.

"Well, I guess I should read more of the papers to see if we can find your person, hrm?"

"Minx." Darling seemed rather disinterested, but she flopped on his shoulder like a stole and made herself comfortable. She snuffled his neck where the scars Nagini had gifted him lay, gave them a curious lick, and yawned squeakily.

He walked over to Granger's neglected writing desk, passed his wand over habitually to check for unexpected surprises and sat down.

"Minx," Darling said, seemingly admonishing him.

"It's a habit," he said, sighing. "I was born paranoid."

Eyeing the ribbon wrapped stack of his old letters, he closed his eyes, trying to stifle the feeling of his own guilt. Hermione had been his friend, and they had been ready to be more—and he had cast her aside without even trying to investigate.

He'd always been so accepting of betrayal over kindness—being a pariah over loved, being unforgivable.

Until her—

And then he'd—

Fuck. He closed his eyes. "I went and buggered it up again," he said to the desk and no one in particular. "Said things that I shouldn't have, let my hurt feelings lead me around like a dog—the cameras, the jeering. I was convinced that was the true face of a farce, yet I couldn't suspect something was wrong. I, who should have known better."

"Minx!" Darling said, landing on the top of the tome. "Minx, minx."

Snape grabbed the mammal and pulled her close in a cuddle so he could read the journal again. The squirming stopped as he held her, and she settled with her head over his arm.

* * *

_Cuinn showed up in my garden by chance or fate. I am unsure which, but I know she's no ordinary animal. She shares the more endearing characteristics of just about everything cuddly and has the intelligence to match. She bit me when I tried to move her from the mud, but she seemed apologetic about it. Perhaps, it was a gift, for I seem to understand her more than I ever did Crookshanks._

_I know her name is Cuinn, and she was attacked by something unexpected. A hunter, perhaps. She evaded them, but she was hurt._

_I bound her wounds and gave her some healing balm, water, and some food. Thank goodness she's an omnivore. I'll have to thank Master Oldive for having made me learn both human and non-human healing under my masteries and Master Snape for having forced me to think outside of books so many years ago._

_I'm sure he wouldn't care to hear my gratitude._

_As she rested, I looked up what she might be. All she says vocally is "minx" but no book reference seems to be able to define her. None of my resources back at St Mungo's seem to have any idea what she might be some failed experimental breeding akin to Hagrid—_

_Master Pilo joked that she might have fallen through a wormhole from another dimension, but really who believes in that, honestly?_

_Magic seems content to let me suffer the mystery as it moulds me into whatever its plan is._

_I feel content in that I saved someone who deserves a second chance at a life to live it free of guilt and war._

_I have no doubt that Dumbledore used Severus Snape as easily as he did Harry, myself, and the entire Order to further his so-called greater good. Regardless if it was correct or not, the ending is much the same. People died who could have been saved—people magic misses as a tree misses a leaf. One could say that a tree no more misses a leaf than it would a piece of bark, but who is to say it doesn't?_

_Anyway, I digress._

_I sent a letter to Master Snape begging his insight on the balance of sage's parsley, moonstone, and dittany with based with comfrey and dandelion in combination with Merlin's toenails (what a strange name for a flower) and omenwart when ground into a poultice. I'm almost positive it will work, but Cuinn is a rather unique animal and I would never wish to hurt her on accident._

_She also makes better conversation than Ronald even with a one-word vocabulary._

_Ronald wants to get married, of course, but more to avoid Molly's nagging than any true desire to bind himself to me. I am no fool. I know he sees plenty of other witches he covets and wants more than an ink-stained bookworm. No, his only interest in me is something official and for a mother to give him his token Quidditch team of children._

_No, that is not the life for me._

_So, I live here in this hidden place—away from yet still in the Wizarding World. I brew my tinctures and potions for St Mungo's and the Goblin Nation, and floo in to do rounds when Healer Oldive wants a day off._

_That is enough._

_Magic keeps me company, but sometimes I miss being able to touch another with affection and not feel like there is a price for it._

_Even now, my time visiting with Harry, Ginny, or Ron feels like something is looming. Pressure. Expectations._

_I do not desire their guilt and their dreams seeking to control me like I am some defiant schoolgirl who doesn't know her betters._

_I gave my life to Magic, not them. I will not be saddled with their harness and forced to pull their wagon of ideals. Not after all we fought for, died for._

_Cuinn has curled up in my lap radiating pure contentedness._

_I'm glad she's here._

* * *

Severus eyed the minx in his lap and pondered. "So, you are Cuinn?"

"Minx," she replied in an argumentative tone.

"Oh, so you're either a different magical hybrid or you just don't like me calling you that?"

"Minx." Darling yawned, ignoring him like a cat while still taking up his lap.

Snape sighed.

Severus picked up the furry creature and walked over to the settee. He was tired, and it did not do any good to keep reading an extensive journal while but half-alive. He wondered if Hermione would storm in, perfectly alive and safe, and hex him off her settee out of sheer principle. He only meant to nap for just a few minutes, but the moment his eyes closed, Darling promptly curled up against his neck.

He was out like a light.

* * *

Severus found himself in an incredibly vast library that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.

Confused, he looked around, and any direction he looked gave him the same, expansive view of shelves unending—filled with books unending.

Pulling his outer robes around himself in a habitual, comforting gesture, he cocked his head to try and figure out how he had ended up in a library, of all places.

Even more oddly, there was a lone small mailbox here.

He hesitated but opened the mailbox with a sort of strange trepidation only to find there was a leaflet inside.

He pulled it out, reading it.

_Welcome to Zork!_

_Be careful when it gets Dark. You might be eaten by a grue._

Severus put the leaflet back in the mailbox and closed it.

Where the _**hell**_ was he?

_Zork, obviously._

_Shut up, impertinent inner mental voice,_ he thought fiercely.

_Oh, and what exactly are you going to do if I don't, hrm?_

Severus scowled harder.

" _That scowl isn't very attractive, Professor,"_ a familiar voice said, and he turned to see a curly haired woman surrounded in minx.

Minx. Minxes. Minxi? Hell, who knew?

The animals were all cuddled up next to her as she read from _Implementors? Gods or Annoyances?_

"Minx!"

"Minx."

"Minx?"

"Minx. Minx!"

The woman smiled and cuddled the nearest one causing utter jealousy in the cutest more adorable way possible. Somehow, all of them clambered into her lap and kept her company. The woman struggled to keep them all sated without jealousy, and with a full lap that seemed like it would be quite difficult.

With a sinking feeling, he realised who she was. "Hermione?"

"That's hardly appropriate, Professor," she answered coolly, flipping a page in her book. "There is no familiarity between us, after all."

" _ **Minx!"**_ the animals chimed together, seemingly in perfect agreement.

The pain he had tried to deny ever since he'd used Occlumency to drive all if his emotions away suddenly bubbled up with a vengeance. He remembered her warm, chocolate brown eyes as she smiled and ran towards him—completely unaware of his simmering rage and wrath. He remembered how the warmth had turned to confusion, pain, and then ice.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, almost a moan.

"Whatever for?" Her voice was utterly clinical and without even a trace emotion.

"I judged you harshly and lashed out instinctively. I didn't realise—I didn't even suspect—I should have—" He visibly drooped, his entire body threatening to break apart. "I hurt you and thought it just. I was so busy being hurt and damning you for it, I didn't stop to think, to realise that something was terribly wrong."

The woman who _could_ be Hermione shifted her weight in the chair, causing the minx to readjust in her lap with hurried squeaks. "I decided after multiple failed attempts at relationships with my supposed peers that perhaps I had been looking in all the wrong places. I thought—one more chance and then screw it. Me and fifty some Kneazles and a life of solitary hagishness. Then, just when I thought my life would be solitary, I had hope. You."

Snape's heart fluttered.

"I was wrong," she said sombrely. "I was wrong to believe that anyone could truly want me. Know me. Accept me. Without a mask. Without moulding myself into some expected societal norm. I will always be nothing more than a little Mudblood bookworm with ink on her hands and a mind full of useless facts. Useless dreams."

"I shared them," Snape whispered.

"Yes, and you see how wonderfully _**that**_ worked out." Hermione's voice was cold, bitter.

"I swear to you—when I saw you first. I had nothing but the desire to make a life with you. Court you as a man, not a ghost. I wanted to become better—more worthy of you."

"You tore me to pieces. You left me hanging, questioning why you never met with me. When I found you, you accused me of being a harlot. Is that how a man courts a woman?"

Severus added two and two and ended up with seven point two.

"Hermione, when I saw you first, it was in the Ministry atrium where we agreed to meet. I was greeted by cameras and you, where you called me a fool and said you could never care for a greasy git like me."

"I waited for seven hours in the main branch of the London library for you. Right where you told me to be!"

Severus's eyes wrinkled around the edges as his nose twitched. " _ **I**_ never asked you to meet me there. I swear it."

Hermione's lips formed a flat line, disbelief swimming across her eyes like a passing shark. One of the minxes jumped off her lap and then scrambled up onto a shelf. It returned a few seconds later with a piece of parchment in its mouth. Hermione pet the minx over the head and pushed the parchment over the desk towards him.

" _Your_ handwriting. _Your_ scent."

Snape picked up the parchment and boggled. It did look like he had written it, yet—

"Hermione, this smells like you."

" _ **What?"**_

"The parchment—to me, it smells like _you_. Parchment, ink—sakura blossoms and musk."

Hermione snatched up the parchment and took a whiff. "Black tea, sandalwood, and fresh herbs upon wool. _You_. I would know it anywhere."

Snape's expression was sombre, his eyebrows meeting together. "There is only one substance that smells differently to every person that takes it in."

"Amortentia," Hermione said grimly.

" _ **Minx!"**_ the minxes spat angrily. " _ **Minx, minx!"**_

"I believe, Hermione," Snape said, "that we've both been had— turned against one other in the most humiliating of ways."

Hermione turned and closed her eyes, anger leaving her like escaping breath. "It's too late for me."

"No, it's not too late. We can start again. Make a life. Together."

Hermione snorted softly— seeming so much like him at his lowest, his worst.

"Hermione, please let me find you. Let me help you."

"It's too late for me, Severus," she said softly. "Magic saved me from a powerful curse and the only way I could resist was to no longer be human anymore."

"Curse? _**What**_ curse?" Severus cried, trying to get closer to her, but the table seemed so comically far, and his feet seemed to get him nowhere.

Hermione stood, the minxes scattering into the winds of the library. "Imperius," she said grimly. "Killing you."

The wind rose and pushed him away, further and further from her.

" _ **Hermione, no!"**_

"Goodbye, Professor."

" _ **Hermione!"**_

"For what it's worth," she said, her voice like a bare whisper in the wind. "I hope you find someone to be happy with."

" _ **No, Hermione! Please! Please!"**_

The books flew by him as he was dragged away into a dark nothingness.

* * *

Severus flew out of the cushions on the settee with a cry sending the poor startled minx flying off his chest with a squealed, " _ **MINX!"**_

Standing seemed only a temporary thing as he wilted back down onto the much-abused settee with a low groan. "Hermione," he whispered brokenly, cradling his head in his hands.

A part of him wondered if he was doomed to forever want something he could never have, either by his own idiocy or the whims of fate.

His mind spun with the memory of the dream— a dream that seemed far too real even in its strangeness. With a start, he dashed over to the desk where the bundle of letters had been so carefully preserved.

The carefully tied ribbon went flying as he went through the letters until he found the one he was looking for—

The letter that asked her to wait for him at the London library smelled like parchment and ink, sakura blossoms and musk.

Amortentia.

He cast about seventy diagnostic spells over the parchment until it was glowing various different colours at once even as Snape's expression grew more and more murderous.

He remembered how he'd put his nose to the letter "she" had sent, revelling in her scent and realised that it had not been her he had smelled but the Amortentia that had been infused upon the page.

Someone had deliberately sent them both in different directions to ensure they didn't meet that day.

But, who could have had access to their personal addresses, their mail? The wards on the DoM living quarters were quite extensive. The wards on Hermione's home were equally extensive. It had taken days to break through them—

_Wait_.

Severus rushed over to the hearth.

Darling was there, eyeing him somewhat suspiciously as she chewed on a truffle.

"Sorry," he apologised as he ran more diagnostics over the hearth.

Darling munched noisily upon the truffle's outer crust and pillaged the softer insides with happy squeaks of, "Minx. Minx. Minx."

"You realise you're eating about a half a million galleons worth of magical truffle, right?"

"Minx."

"That's what I thought."

"Minx, minx!" Darlings protests were muffled by a mouthful of truffle that she stubbornly refused to let go of.

He plucked the beast off the hearth and cradled her against himself, rubbing her ears and chin. "That's how they got past the wards. Emergency overrides of the Floo security system."

Darling hadn't relinquished her truffle prize, and she carried it in her mouth even as she was absconded with.

"We need to get back to the DoM and find out how Granger was cursed so we can reverse it," he muttered to himself. "I'm sorry you're not going to be able to stay here and wait for your mistress, but you're my closest link to her."

"Minx?" Darling replied, seemingly startled.

Snape pulled her into a firm embrace, grasped the medallion around his neck, and said, " _pignerare_."

There was a tug before the pair disappeared in a whorl of magic with Darling's startled, " _ **MINX!"**_ punctuating her startled minx-napping.

* * *

"Severus, wherever did you find her?" Amelia's wide-eyed gasp proceeded her loving on the most adorable mammal she'd ever had the pleasure of cuddling.

"Minx!" Darling said, mouth still full of magical truffle, but she obviously loved the belly, head, and chin rubs that she was getting from the head of the Department of Mysteries.

"Granger's hideaway," Snape said. "I think Granger named her Cuinn, but she refuses to respond to it anything but Darling."

"Minx!" Darling said proudly, her curled tail wobbling cutely.

"You realise this a minx, don't you?" Amelia said.

"Obviously."

"The are extremely rare, nowadays. They once escaped from some mad wizard who claimed to have pulled them from another dimension called "Zork" but they were reknowned for being able to sniff out the rarest of magical ingredients— namely the magical truffle species. Rumour said he tried to alter them to be more useful instead of cute, but it didn't end well for him."

"He died of cuteness overload?" Severus asked dryly.

"The minxes ate him."

Severus eyed the minx.

"Minx?" Darling said, cocking her head cutely.

"Right."

"It's the story," Amelia said.

"Miiiiinx," Darling said, making it sound like the noise made when one was smelling something particularly foul.

"So, you think this minx is bonded to Hermione Granger?"

"She must be. She smells just like Granger."

"Minx?" Darling paused in the munching of her truffle, giving Snape a strangely puckered look that eerily resembled that of Minerva McGonagall facing a mumbling first year.

Amelia gave Snape a highly quizzical eyebrow.

Snape waved his hand. "Keep eating, truffle eater."

"Minx," Darling said, going back to her mastication.

Snape sighed. "Maybe he turned himself into a truffle."

"Oh, the wizard who was allegedly eaten by minxes?"

"Yes," Snape agreed. "Now _that_ I could see."

Darling fastidiously cleaned her muzzle and whiskers of all the stray truffle bits.

"More so than eating an offensive wizard, deservedly or otherwise—" Snape added.

Amelia shrugged. "Well, at least we can attempt to trace the magical bond back to Hermione Granger," she said.

"That is only part of the problem," Snape said heavily. "Her condition is not due to the curse. It is in fact what saved her."

Amelia's brows scrunched together, wrinkling her face.

"What condition? What curse?"

"The curse is her attempt to fight off an _Imperius_. The condition is that she has to be human to obey it— so she transformed into something else that couldn't be compelled."

"And do you know what that is?"

Snape shook his head. "But when I saw her in the vision— she was surrounded by minxes that seemed to really like her. A lot."

Amelia sighed, waving her hand. "Take her to Master Scryerwall," she said. "She's better at tracing bonds and such. After you find Miss Granger, you can find a way to place her in stasis so she can't hurt anyone once she's cured. Namely you. Who knows if there are other compulsions on her? Or we can put her in the Thieves' Downfall tank and then take off the spell— whatever. We won't know until the masters investigate."

Snape looked dubious. "If magic saved her, I doubt it will be so easily countered."

Amelia shook her head. "We won't know if we don't try or at least look into it."

"Minx!" Darling interjected, seemingly not amused.

"I'm sure whatever spell afflicted her, we can counter," Amelia said.

"Minx!" Darling avoided Snape's hands as he attempted to collect her. "Minx, minx, minx!"

She launched off the desk, tipping over the inkwell, the quill holder, a pile of scrolls, and various reports as her feet hit the floor, scraped frantically against the slippery tile, and zoomed off out of the office.

" _ **Minx! Minx-minx! MIIIINX!**_ " she cried frantically, disappearing into the hallway in a blur of fur.

Snape scowled at Amelia, the very opposite of amused. "Great, now you lost Granger's familiar."

Amelia rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"I didn't even say anything threatening!"

"You gave her the possibility that her bondmate might murder me if things went wrong."

"You think the minx understands English?"

"Undoubtedly. This _is_ Hermione Granger's familiar, after all."

"Well, f—" Amelia said, shutting her eyes.

* * *

_**Lost:** _ _one minx_

_If anyone sees a minx in the DoM (yes, yes, a real minx, not the witchy kind) it is essential that she is returned to Amelia's office as soon as possible as there are time-sensitive traces that must be performed on her._

_Should you find her, please catch her as carefully and humanely as possible and bring her to Amelia A.S.A.P._

* * *

Ron smiled victoriously as he picked up the parcel that would finally free him from Rita Skeeter's yoke of blackmail. He could take the package back to the Aurory, turn it in as part of an investigation and get that horrid bitch out of his life.

Bloody bint.

How the _hell_ she had managed to find out about his actions out in the Forest of Dean, now was a total mystery.

_Unless…_

He wondered if Hermione maybe was the culprit while she was trying to wriggle out of marriage—trying to throw mud onto him so she could run off to whatever place she had gone and hidden herself.

Only—

Why did he see Hermione everywhere?

That witch they said he had gotten up the duff and magically married himself to— that Bloomsbury cow— there was no _way_ he was married to her. He'd slept with Hermione!

That young girl they said he was with at the Quidditch game?

That'd been Hermione, too.

But when he tried to find her— he couldn't seem to find her any-bloody-where.

Dammit, it made no sense!

He was _going_ to find Hermione, wherever she was, and they were going to go get married and be a right proper family.

But— first things first. He had to get this parcel back to the Aurory and figure out _why_ Skeeter wanted it so bad.

"Ah, Auror Weasley," a voice called. "Just pass through here so we can check your bags and pockets before you go."

"What? I'm here on Auror business!"

"True enough, but everyone is getting searched until Amelia finds her minx," the guard said.

"Does it look like I'm attached to a witch?"

"No, a _real_ min—" The guard sighed, shaking his head. "The animal. The furry kind."

Ron gave the guard a long-suffering look. "Look, I need to get back to my office, yeah?"

"Won't take but a minute, Auror Weasley," the guard said, rolling his eyes.

Ron put the pack on the table and emptied out his pockets, making a big show about opening every visible pocket.

The guard picked through them and raised an eyebrow at the Drooble's Best Blowing Gum wrappers, licorice snaps (that proceeded to attack each other and tumble off the table), strange string in multiple colours, lint balls that manifested eyes and tussled with each other until everything was covered in lint, magical handcuffs, non-magical handcuffs, a disgruntled-looking lizard that scampered up the wall and into a crack, clutching a jar of something that looked disturbing like _slime_ —

The guard squinted and shook his head. "Parcel, please."

Ron shifted in annoyance, pretending he had no idea what he meant.

"Look, I _know_ you've got a parcel stashed under your armpit in that pocket the Aurors all like to pretend we don't know about. Just set it right here so I can scan it and we'll be good."

Ron set his jaw.

When the guard crossed his arms, tapping his wand on his elbow, Ron sighed and pulled the parcel out and plunked it down on the table.

A muffled " _ **MINX!"**_ came from the otherwise innocuous-looking brown paper-wrapped bundle.

"What the—" the guard said as he hurriedly undid the bindings of twine.

Twine with the unmistakable thrum of hidden magic—

The moment the twine fell away, the paper burst outward in a shower of shreds, and a tangled mass of spikey, slimy, and obviously very brassed-off tentacles shot out of the parcel as a huge mouth lined with circles of fangs roared loudly.

_**SHHHHHHHTHINK! SCREEEEEKKKKKK!** _

A shrieking Ronald Bilius Weasley was hauled into the writhing mass just before it disappeared into the remains of the parcel.

Then one fuzzy, very adorable minx peeked out tentatively. "Minx?"

The guard, who was standing there stupidly, mouth working like a goldfish, snapped out of it only to say, "Awwwww! Come here, you!"

"Minx! Minx!"

Darling hopped into the guard's arms and rubbed herself all over him. "Minx!"

"I'm going to take you straight to Amelia, you darling little thing!" he cooed. "Yes you are! Yes you are!"

* * *

Amelia Bones, HBOY, and general speculator about the sanity of everything that walked about on two legs, eyed the guard who was cuddling and rubbing Darling on the belly even after telling the seemingly horrifying story of otherworldly tentacles dragging Auror Ronald Weasley into its maw. Believing his story was, she admitted, logical since Vincent Hightower was hardly the kind of wizard to make up wild— well, _any_ thing. However, otherworldly tentacles seemed a bit far-fetched even from the DoM.

If the tentacles were real, then the old stories about magically altered minxes from another dimension would have to be true.

And if that were _true_ —

Amelia rubbed her temples with her fingers, sighed, and ordered an extra-strong pot of Ceylon tea with a side of Snape's patented "blithering dunderhead strength" headache draught

Auror Potter came in escorted by Severus dressed in his full Unspeakable regalia. As usual, he wore uber-intimidating like a glove, and nothing Potter did ever seemed to relieve the profound sense of unease. It was much the same for anyone else who had to deal with Severus Snape's smouldering aura of (seeming) malevolence.

"Mr Potter," Amelia said. "I have requested you here that we may confirm a number of things. Namely the location of Hermione Granger is our first concern, of course, but we are also trying to figure out why Auror Weasley attempted to smuggle Miss Granger's familiar out of the DoM."

Harry frowned. "What?"

Snape, even with his face covered by a mask, seemed to scowl harder at Harry.

Harry was staring at the small animal curled up in Vincent Hightower's lap.

Darling pawed playfully at the guard's fingers. "Minx! Minx? Minx."

"What is that?" Harry blurted.

The minx froze in place and glared up at the mop-haired wizard. "Minx."

"A minx, Mr Potter," Amelia said.

"How is _it_ supposed to help find Hermione?"

Darling's fur spiked, and she looked ready to launch herself off Guard Hightower's lap to fly directly into Harry's face.

A heavily robed arm scooped the minx up and pressed her against his chest. " _Do_ try not to brass off the one link we have to saving your friend."

Darling perked at the hissing, concealed speech as if she understood it, but Harry flinched, both not understanding and being utterly intimidated by default.

The minx cuddled against the Unspeakable and cooed, "Minx."

The goblin-silver encased hands looked like claws, but they gently stroked the minx, earning a hearty thrumming purr.

"Miiiinx," she cooed, wriggling her legs and exposing her fuzzy belly for rubs.

The Unspeakable pulled a giant orange out from a pocket and held it out, and the minx played with it before tearing into it gleefully, sending bits of peel everywhere and digging into the juicy orange flesh with gusto.

"Look, not that I don't doubt your specialties in the DoM," Harry began to argue with Amelia about the wisdom of bringing in some "random animal" on board.

Amelia's eyelid was twitching as she sipped her tea.

Darling wriggled out of Snape's embrace and bounced over to where Harry's heavily milk-laden tea waited for his attention. She stuck her snout in and lapped the tasty beverage into submission, swiftly making it disappear. She hopped back into Snape's arms with a soft "minx!" and snuggled into him.

Harry absently raised his cup to his mouth and took a swig only to choke on a dry sugar cube instead.

Harry sputtered.

"Issues, Mr Potter?"

"I seem to have lost my tea."

Amelia sipped her tea, concealing her smirk.

Harry shrugged and poured himself another cup, sighing gustily. "Alright. I'll admit I don't have a better plan to find Hermione, but I fail to see how this animal is going to help. It's not like it can speak!"

"Minx." Darling sniffed, seemingly offended by Harry's attitude.

Harry huffed. "You know what I mean! One word does not the English language make!"

"Miiiinx," Darling said, stressing the first syllable like a curse.

_**Hnk. Hnk. Hnk. Hnk.** _

The minx leapt down from Snape's arms and began to make strange percolating sounds.

_**HNNNKKKNNNNGGGBBLAAHHHF!** _

The small minx suddenly hurled out a huge mass of writhing tentacles that dumped out a slime-and-eyeball-muck-covered Ronald Weasley and Rita Skeeter. Both of them seemed delirious and horrified, and they immediately threw up what looked like "universe paste" if one were to imagine a shimmering galaxy trapped in sticky mucous. The tentacles seemed to shudder as they wiped themselves off on the carpet, gathered up the "universe paste" and disappeared back into the seemingly fathomless maw of the cute and cuddly little mammal.

"Minx?" Darling said almost apologetically, grooming her whiskers.

Amelia picked up the minx and cuddled her, offering her a mint. "Who's a good minx? Yes, you are!"

"Minx!" Darling agreed, chewing on the mint with clear relief before helping herself to the rest of Harry's second mug of tea...

Harry's eyes rolled back into his head as he slid to the floor in a dead faint.

Snape scowled, crossing his arms and sniffing in disgust at the pile of unconscious people sprawled out on Amelia's office floor.. " _Out_ standing."

* * *

" _ **Minxxxx!"**_ Darling protested loudly as she was suspended in the air by a magical field. " _ **MIIIIIINX!"**_

Snape extended a hand and attempted to soothe her. The minx grasped at his fingers, struggling. " _ **Minx! MMIIIIINX!"**_

"It will only be for a moment, my dear. I promise," he said gently. "I wouldn't ever let anything hurt you."

"Miiiiiinx?" Darling whimpered piteously.

Snape stepped into the restraining field, pulling the minx to him. "Shhh, it's okay, little one. It's okay."

" _ **Minnxxx!"**_ Darling protested, trying in vain to burrow into his robes.

Snape's expression softened and he pressed a tender kiss upon the bridge of her muzzle. "Be at ease, my Darling. I am here for you. Always. I promise. I _swear_ it."

There was a hot blast of powerful magic as a magical wind began to howl ominously through the room. Magic shot up out of the floor as the restraining field shattered into a multitude of tiny particles, knocked over tables, blew the doors off the hinges, cracked the floor, and conjured a pair of baffled-looking cassowaries, which landed hard on the far desk.

"Minx?"

"Minx."

Amelia Bones, HBOY, stared at the shattered remains of the retaining field to see one black and one sienna-brown minx snuggling together in the middle.

" _ **Minx!"**_ they exclaimed.

"Well, shite," she said, deflating.

* * *

_**Aurors Potter and Weasley Suspended and Under Investigation After Damning Memories From Prophet's Rita Skeeter**_ _**Exposed Before Wizengamot**_

_After several long weeks of closed-door sessions, Rita Skeeter was found guilty of blackmailing a member of law enforcemment, use of an Unforgivable curse against an unnamed Ministry employee and conspiracy to commit murder as well as being an unregistered Animagus who used her form to spy, break and enter private residences as well as restricted areas in search of blackmail material, and otherwise manipulate others for personal gain._

_Auror Weasley was found guilty of manipulating records while under blackmail to cover up the information of her skullduggery in order to keep his own secret safe: that he abandoned both Harry Potter and Hermione Granger in their time of need during the war and had not, in fact, stayed at his friends' side as he has claimed for years._

_Auror Potter was found guilty of breach of ethics and illegally using DMLE resources to cover up criminal activities performed by Auror Weasley as per Ms Skeeter's demands._

_Both Potter and Weasley have been suspended from the Auror's office pending sentencing. Protests have filled the Ministry due to Harry Potter's status as the Man-Who-Vanquished-Voldemort, to which the Wizengamot has only responded that justice must be served regardless of personal status. Had either Auror Potter or Weasley reported Skeeter's blackmail attempts from the beginning, the circumstances would have been quite different._

* * *

" _ **Minx!"**_

" _ **Minx!"**_

" _ **Minx! Minx! Minx!"**_

Amelia lifted up one foot as a train of hyperactive minxes stampeded down the hallway of the DoM towards the library. She sighed, rubbing her temples as the flood of utter adorableness decided that the library was the target of the day. Yesterday, it had been the potions laboratory. Tomorrow— well, who knew?

The only thing that everyone knew at the DoM was that a mated pair of minxes had single-handedly taken over the DoM and paid for themselves a thousand-million times over just from the magical truffles they dug up and the rather disturbing highly-defensive tentacles that no thief could ever expect.

The minxlets were absolutely adorable, too.

Projects from a hundred years back suddenly had full funding. The goblins were actually _happy_ to see the DoM in their bank.

Minxes from various "other places" were moving in as well, promptly making themselves at home as if they owned the place, yet no one was complaining due to how bloody useful and downright cute they were.

The DoM had the only line of minx-brewed potions line in the entire world— not that anyone knew outside the Department of Mysteries.

Gringotts had allowed their best cursebreakers to try their hand at ending the curse-compulsion on Darling-Hermione once they realised Darling was actually Hermione, but the curse was unlikely to be solved without the death of Rita Skeeter.

Skeeter had confessed under Veritaserum that she had wanted to see Hermione punished for her hand in "forcing her write the boring truth" and that the idea to get Severus Snape out of the way was just an added bonus and a noose around Ronald Weasley's neck to make sure he couldn't tattle on her.

Ron, after all, had desperately wanted Snape out of the way so he could marry Hermione—

And he couldn't very well do that if she was pining over Snape.

Skeeter had attempted to manipulate the couple into believing that the other _hated_ them, and it had worked until Harry Potter's growing worry over his longtime female friend's disappearance.

Or perhaps his guilt in not having tried to find her sooner.

Amelia wasn't sure, but Headmistress McGonagall had apparently taken pity upon Potter when Ginevra left him and allowed him to assume the role of caretaker upon Argus Filch's retirement, keeping him well away from the relentless public attention, which had begun to endanger his young children. Ginevra had embraced a career with the Holyhead Harpies and hadn't looked back, refusing to return home and be "another Weasley housewife" or worse "a Potter." She'd even changed her name to Ginny Goodwin, and had soon taken the professional Quidditch circuit by storm.

"Minx!"

Amelia looked down on her desk to see a tiny bundle of adorable looking up at her with a feline face, curly porcine tail, and koala-like cuddliness. She picked up the minxlet, cuddling her, and she wriggled with happiness, exuding the sweet scent of chocolate and cherry bonbons.

"Hello, Chloe," she greeted, tickling her belly.

"Minx!" the minxlet chirped cheerily. Her mouth opened and a flurry of tentacles stretched out and wrestled with Amelia's hand but didn't break the skin or attempt to pull her. The mini-minx cooed happily and sucked the tentacles back in.

Amelia touched noses with the tiny minxlet and smiled. "Aren't you just a precious little darling?"

"Miiiiinx!" the minxlet agreed.

Amelia ruffled Chloe on the head and set her back down on the floor. The minxlet rubbed around her ankles before dashing out of her office door to the great beyond of the DoM.

"Well, aren't you just the auntie that everyone wants?" Kingsley teased her from the doorway.

"Hush you," she chided. "Minister or not, I'll sic an entire roomful of minxes on you, and you'll never, ever escape."

Kingsley's eyebrow lifted. "I've developed a resistance to the Snapelets," he claimed loftily.

"Doubtful," Amelia said. "Even if you did manage to develop a tolerance to Nathaniel's clinginess, Chloe has you wrapped around her curly little tail, Geoffrey knows your every button, Fern charms you into sharing your lunch with her, and Christopher has you chasing him around your office every day."

"Harrumph," Kingsley muttered.

"Minx!" a minxlet cooed from Kingsley's shoulder.

"I rest my case," Amelia said smugly.

Kingsley slumped. "Fine, they're all adorable and resistance is completely futile."

"Hem, hem!" a horrifyingly familiar voice interrupted.

"What have I told you about letting these filthy animals run around your offices?" Umbridge admonished. "As the new director for the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, I _demand_ that you box these creatures up and remove them from the DoM premises immediately!"

Umbridge puffed up self-righteously. "I will, of course, fine your department extensively for not following the appropriate protocol."

"These are _not_ filthy animals, Madam Umbridge," Amelia objected. "They are bonafide residents of the Department."

"Nonsense. They are furry little beasts, and you _will_ remove them immediately."

"I assure you, they are all registered and perfectly legal residents—"

"You will remove every one of those disgusting creatures _**RIGHT NOW!"**_

She pulled out her wand and aimed it at the minx perched on Kingsley's shoulder.

" _ **MMIIIIIIINNNNXXXXXXX!"**_ Geoffrey screeched in terror and agony as he went tumbling off Kingsley's shoulder, smacking against the corner of Amelia's desk before landing hard on the floor, where he whimpered softly.

A furious Kingsley scooped Geoffrey up, cuddling him close as he glared daggers at Umbridge,.

"You take that thing straight to the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and have it put down at once!"

Umbridge then pointed her wand at Kingsley threateningly, her arm trembling.

Geoffrey's hackles went up, fur standing on end. His mouth opened, and a flurry of giant space-defying tentacles shot out as an equally giant maw of endless teeth followed close behind.

_**RRRGHGHHHHFHFHFFFFFSSSSSSSKKKK!** _

Umbridge disappeared along with the tentacles, leaving only a shredded pink cardigan and one pink buckled shoe on the floor.

Geoffrey shuddered and let out a cute-sounding belch.

"Minx."

"Who's a good minx?" Amelia cooed, pulling a spicy crab and cucumber roll out from the cooling charmed stasis drawer in her desk. She offered up a piece to the minx.

" _ **Minx!"**_ Geoffrey made the tasty bit of sushi disappear with a happy purr.

Kingsley sighed and shook his head. "Umm, how do you propose we get Madam Umbridge out of whatever odd pocket dimension she just got yanked into?"

Amelia idly scritched Geoffrey on the head. "Umbridge who?"

Kingsley's mouth dropped open as he stared back at Amelia.

" _Do_ close your mouth, Kingsley," a familiar voice drawled. "You'll catch flies."

Amelia and Kingsley both turned hastily to see the imposing figure of Severus Snape standing in the doorway along with a distinctively bushy-haired witch with a set of feline ears poking out of her curls.

Both Amelia and Kingsley gaped.

"I wouldn't worry about Madam Umbridge," Severus said, staring at his nails as if he were born a Malfoy. "The curse seems to have broken at long last. I think— she likely met a rather sticky end."

Geoffrey gave a second, obscenely cute, squeak-burp.

Amelia sat down hard. "The paperwork for all this is seriously going to _suck_."

Kingsley just stood in place, utterly baffled.

Severus gave his wife a _very_ heated look.

She squeaked cutely at him.

_**Poof!** _

A black and sienna minx chased each other down the hallway of the DoM towards the communal living quarters.

" _ **Minx!"**_ Geoffrey cried, chasing after his parents with distress, not wanting to be left behind.

"Tea?" Amelia offered with a tentative smile.

"The entire pot, if you would," Kingsley finally managed to say. "What the hell am I going to tell the Wizengamot?"

"The truth?"

"They wouldn't believe it."

Amelia smiled. "Even better, old friend. You wouldn't want the Department of Mysteries to be easily explainable, now would you?"

Kingsley downed his cup of tea in one go and looked as if he was contemplating eating the saucer as well. "I'll just say that dear Dolores went off on a wild minx chase and hasn't been seen since."

Amelia shared a sly smile with the Minister. "There you go. Pity she didn't bother to tell us when she'd be coming back, yes?"

Meanwhile, back in the comfortable lair of the Snape family, two very happy minxes enjoyed each other's company in their newly regained human forms only to relapse into their minx forms and curl up together like a furry representation of yin-yang right in the middle of the duvet. Magic swirled lazily all around them, seemingly quite content, even as minx after minx joined the family pileup, cuddling together in a cute pile of furry, sleeping happiness.

Cuinn hopped up on the bed, kneaded the duvet, and curled up next to her original bondmate with a happy squeak. All was right with the world again.

"Minx!"

* * *

_And they lived minxily ever after…_

_**Minx!** _

* * *

**A/N:** The minx was a creature originally found in Zork (Beyond Zork, specifically) a text-adventure by Infocom. I, to this day, think of this creature whenever minx is said, which makes when I read it in stories where they don't mean the cute adorable animal very, very confusing. XD


End file.
